


Darling I want all the strings attached

by blondeart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Niall, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Pining Zayn, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondeart/pseuds/blondeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For the record,” He takes a step forward which only makes Niall press his back harder on the wall. </p><p>“I didn’t fuck you,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling I want all the strings attached

**Author's Note:**

> This is a future fic set between September and October 2015. 
> 
> Hi this is for my ziall slts [Mel](https://twitter.com/otratsoul) & [Bianca.](http://twitter.com/raconteurziall) Thank you for the AU and for always being there for me. love you both. Ziall lives.  
> Do listen to this [audio](https://soundcloud.com/haeijpg/i-wont-mind-voicemail-edit) because you'll need it and I'm more than positive it is a ziall song. And Niall swears and drinks a lot and Zayn's Zayn, mostly unreadable. They're cute.  
> I’m sorry it’s shit and not beta’d and I kept promising I will put it up every night but I would have an idea and you don’t want to know how many times I had to revise and retype. PS. I obsess over italics and am terrible at smut forgive.

With a beat he dials the number for the fourth time tonight and sighs as he stares at the half empty pint on his hand waiting for an answer except he gets redirected to voicemail _again._ In defeat, he grumbles and waits for his queue. _Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. Please record your message. When you have finished recording you may hang up or press one for more options,_ it said.

“Zayn babe, fuck I, didn’t mean it like that,” he slurs, accent thicker than it usually is. “Funny, we’re in, we’re in London today, been here for like I don’t remember six days? And,” he laughs, doesn’t know and understand why exactly. “oh yeah you left the band, Christ, Z you left,” he sighs and gulps the remains of the glass before remembering he was in the middle of something. “you. You left me, I can’t believe,”

“You didn’t even greet me during,” he sighs and starts to sing in his thick Irish brogue, _‘happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Nialler,’_ Niall then wipes at his eyes which he hadn’t noticed he’s been crying. “I need,” he sighs tiredly. “why, haven’t you even tried, fuck” After another string of curses he hangs up finally accepting how he’s being more illiterate after every passing moment. He drinks two, three, four more glasses and he stops counting when it reached two digits. He doesn’t remember how long he’s waited for Zayn to call him, doesn’t remember he was actually waiting until he’s opening his phone again, noting 1:38 am and he still gets nothing.

His head is too heavy for him to sit properly now so he’s resting his head on the counter. _Fuck you for the past six months; fuck you for not caring, fuck, if only I didn’t_ like _you so much_ , he thinks.

He hears everything then, the loud party music, the chatters everywhere, the clinking of glasses, and he blinks rapidly at that. He draws his attention at a light bulb this time, it was rather bright so he has to squint nonetheless he fixates on it, mind slowly, slowly being clouded. He sees gold everywhere, piercing golden eyes, even brighter than the bulb and the fucking sun before he’s out.

*

The next thing Niall knew is he’s being shaken and he’s grumbling; refuses to be disturbed. Except whoever it was won’t stop and when he tries to put his head up, it hurts, probably from his position and he doesn’t see an annoying bartender trying to make him go home.

His head is throbbing like hell from hangover and he checks his phone realizing he’s only been asleep for about forty minutes, fuck, he’s about to go back to unconsciousness until he hears it, feels like he’s never heard anything as clear as this his whole life: Zayn just said his name.

He turns around almost immediately and makes eye contact. Fire and Ice collides for the first time in over six goddamn months.

He tries to ask what Zayn was doing there but his mouth forbids. It’s dry and Zayn’s hesitantly reaching out for him but he’s feeling sick so he pushes him and runs to the bathroom, falling all over the place. He vomits everything out on the toilet, cringes at the bitter taste and feels tears prickling down his cheeks. Niall hears footsteps, his cubicle door opening and feels a hand massaging his back and he shudders, he feels like he’s on fire with just one simple touch.

“h-how did you,” he tries, doesn’t have the courage to look at Zayn. “You called and I was going to ask, um, Louis, where you were but I realize this was the only bar you go to after I took you here a few days after Eid, remember—” Zayn was cut off by Niall vomiting again and Niall rolls his eyes because now he regrets calling, regrets how he has no control when he’s drunk and regrets how he’s being pestered with what was clearly in the past, by Zayn.

When he’s sure he’s vomited his gut out, he walks to the sink, at least tries to walk to the sink with Zayn trying to hold him up and him trying to push Zayn away. His face tinged red, his hair’s a mess and he could barely stand, makes him think how he’s supposed to go back to his hotel.

“Leave.” he tells Zayn while washing his face. “You called.” Was all he says and Niall stops, he exhales because he’s so furious right now. He slurs something along, _s’ just alcohol intervention or summat, fuck it_ , before trying to go back to the bar by holding on to the wall with Zayn quietly following him.

He sits on the stool and calls the bartender out for the bill, Zayn guesses but Niall’s ordering more drinks. “No, I’m driving you home.” Zayn says boldly, holding him by the elbow. Niall finds himself entertained by that, he laughs fervently, the way he does when he’s genuinely happy and Zayn is lying is he says he didn’t miss that at all.

Niall’s lips suddenly forms a thin line, he looks at Zayn and says surely, “bullshit; who were you again?” And Zayn feels bad for it because he’s guilty, he has in fact listened to Niall’s voicemail a little all five times, he has in fact left his lads at the middle of their Asian leg, has in fact left Niall of all people, without an acceptable reason but he’s here now and he promises not to make the same mistake.

The bartender brings him his drink but Zayn snatches it away, Niall tries to reach for it again and again but Zayn won’t budge. He stares angrily and tries to reach for the glass once more causing it to tip from Zayn’s hand and fall on the ground into tiny little pieces.

“Fuck you.” Niall grits and Zayn rolls his eyes, noting the way they were drawing attention with the other people in the club reminding himself they were still artists or at least Niall is and he doesn’t want the boy to be all over the television the next day for causing hysteria in a club.

He walks to where the bartender was and asks for another drink whereas Zayn takes out his wallet, tries to guess how many Niall’s drank and puts a handful of cash on the counter before getting what he assumes as Niall’s hat and walking over to where he was. Niall was gripping the counter for support as he stood and Zayn stands just behind Niall, he spins him simply and they’re face to face.

Niall trembles at the familiar touch and god, he either wants to beat the shit out of him if he could or pin him there and kiss him until he’s numb. Zayn combs at his hair and it’s so familiar, it feels like home, like how he always did that to Niall and he quietly says,

“It’s only been six months and, darling, aren’t you a mess,”

It makes Niall flush and he’s back to being furious at Zayn. Thinks, how the hell could he joke around like that? As if Niall’s feelings were something to play with. Six fucking months isn’t short, it’s half a year, around twenty-four weeks, more or less a hundred sixty-eight days, more than four thousand, thirty-two hours since, is he dumb? Then again who gives a shit, no one’s counting.

Before he could even push Zayn away, Zayn’s putting his cap on him and with one swoop he’s being carried on the shoulder, away from the bar. He squirms and whisper-yells at Zayn to put him down but Zayn, of course, had always been the lanky but incredibly strong boy that he was.

Zayn puts him down just by the door and pushes him out, right he was, there were paparazzi all over the place and sure he didn’t want to get media attention after he’s left so it was fairly hard to get out of there but he does it for Niall anyway, thinks he’s exception. Sure enough, media was mostly on his because it’s been weeks since he was last seen by the public eye but pap were still crowding Niall and it makes him furious.

Niall doesn’t say anything to them, just wears a thin line of his lips and his eyes were wide open from too much light of their cameras, so Zayn put his arms around him protectively and walks him to his car. Zayn opens the passenger’s for Niall and he hesitates at first. Zayn roars the engine but doesn’t quite move as he waits for the pap to dismiss because he sure as he does not need them following them around his house.

Niall called security and it took them about forty minutes until they were left to silence. Niall gets out once they were the only one there and Zayn follows. “Where are you going?” he shouts. “To my car, obviously.” Niall replies without even looking back. Zayn sighs loudly before turning his engine and beating Niall to the drive seat of his car.

“What the fuck?” he calls out. “I’m driving.” Zayn insists and Niall groans but he shakes his head, tosses the key and goes to the passenger. “Only because I will most probably wreck the car and die and you will be the last person seen with me so you’re going to be liable for my death and even after everything I went through I am such a good friend to do that to you.” He rambles as he messages his temple.

Zayn says, orders him actually, that he’s never allowed to get pissed alone making Niall roll his eye. “I hate you.” He mutters softly but Zayn hears it and his heart breaks just a little. Niall avoids any conversation and he stares at the window away from Zayn. He misses the way Zayn stares at him a beat too long before looking ahead on the road. Niall falls asleep then.

*

Niall’s woken when Zayn unbuckles him and he rolls his eyes, the way he’s done it one too many times tonight because of Zayn. “I can do it, loser.” He says bitterly and Zayn allows him some space so that he could get out and Niall almost screams because it wasn’t his hotel. It was Zayn’s place and he does not want to go back to memory lane and remember the past four years of friendship they have—had.

Niall sits back in the passenger. “Where’s my keys?” he asks. “What are you doing?” Zayn asks back. “I’m not going in there, nope.” Niall says and he crosses his arm once more. “Okay.” Zayn nods and walks to the front door, goes in and leaves the door slightly open for Niall.

Niall, on the other hand, was contemplating what to do, he could always walk to his hotel except it’s almost three in the morning, he could always call Louis but shit might go down after the twitter drama recently and it’s almost three in the morning, he could always call Harry or Liam or Paul or maybe even Dan except it’s almost three in the morning so does he really have any choice.

With a sigh, he walks slowly to Zayn’s door; wishes the ground would just swallow him right then and there or maybe aliens could abduct him, anything at all. He walks in though, immediately smells cocoa from the kitchen, so he closes the door and removes his shoes, takes notes of how Zayn’s shoes were still in order on the rack, like the way he left it around three or maybe four months ago.

“You know, it took you 17 minutes to get in, normally, you’d beat me to the door, remember.” Zayn says when he’s into view. He says it so casually it feels really painful for Niall. He thinks Zayn’s fucking with his feelings again because of course he remembers.

He perfectly remembers how he’d beat Zayn to the door every time they stay at his place, remembers how he’d always ask Zayn to make him cocoa and they’d watch films sometimes or they’d drink pints, moderately, because Zayn says he loves Niall too much to let him die of alcohol poisoning so he’s never drank too much with him.

He perfectly remembers secretly flying back to London with the three other boys in March instead of going to the Philippines for their next concert because Zayn says it’s an emergency. He remembers Zayn saying he had some things going on for a while, that he couldn’t do it anymore and he find it the right time to quit.

He remembers how Louis shouts, how Harry tries to calm him, how Liam tries to reason out and most importantly how he runs to Zayn’s room to cry. He’s cried so hard then and Zayn goes to him, calms him down, says he’s sorry and Niall was off, getting his bag, his passport and wallet, calls a cab and buys a plane ticket to Manila immediately.

Niall tries to shake the memories off, again it was just the past catching up to him, he just needs to forget, how hard could that be? He walks to the table and sits across Zayn, hesitantly grabs the mug and drinks and he tells himself, just one last time with him, one last.

He stands up then and walks to the cupboard, Zayn watches him silently open it one by one all-too-familiarly and gets cans of beer. He walks back to the table, makes eye contact with Zayn, shortly, before he’s opening the can and pouring its content on the cocoa. Zayn doesn’t comment, even when he does not approve because right now he doesn’t care, right now, he was not to deny Niall of anything he asks for nor does so.

They both drink in silence and it was deafening so Zayn ends up collecting more cans and drinking a bit himself. Zayn would speak occasionally, ask Niall how he’s been and tipsy Niall was even more talkative and raucous, would tell him everything apart from how he felt and how he’s been feeling since he left.

Zayn would nod and smile lightly because it was _easy_ and because he in fact knows what’s going on with Niall after he’s made a private twitter account and followed about twenty-five Niall update accounts, he just wanted to hear the Irishman’s accent he’s been longing for the past six months. Another thing he loves about Niall is his voice is so angelic but it’s even more perfect in person if that’s even possible.

Niall ends up drinking too much and he falls asleep on the counter, Zayn stands to move him to the couch except Niall’s startled, ‘”You’ve to stop moving me when I am asleep.” And then he’s mad realizing where he is, alcohol getting the best of him now. “Z please let me go home.” He huffs. “You are home.” Zayn says as he manoeuvres them both to the couch. Niall just laughs humourlessly at that.

“Need to go, now.” Niall argues removing himself away from Zayn’s grasp and stumbling to the door and walking back to his hotel was just taken in consideration. “Don’t, I, please don’t leave me.” Zayn says sadly and Niall is stunned.

“Don’t leave you?! Like how you left me—us? Wow Zayn you almost had me?” Niall says,

He starts to walk but Zayn pulls him back and he groans, he’s been forced to be with the boy since he saw him again and he just wants to _leave_ and maybe converse when he sober and doesn’t hate Zayn as much as he does now. “Need you,” Zayn breathes softly but Niall hears, he hears. _“So much_.” And Niall’s facing Zayn now, he’s trembling and he’s so furious.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He pushes Zayn and Zayn does nothing and that makes Niall even more frustrated. He keeps pushing Zayn and he ends up thrashing, ends up hitting Zayn on the face twice but mostly on his chest and Zayn lets him. Niall starts crying somewhere in between, he sobs loud and makes sure Zayn sees it, feels the pain he’s left Niall and he’s inflicting Niall now that he’s _almost_ ready to let him leave.

“C’mon, Z. Fight me, hit me, I want to feel something. Do it.” Niall screams finally, expression angry, confused and most of all broken but Zayn could only do so much.

Zayn holds each side of Niall’s face to stop him then, sad eyes looks up at him with so much emotions, his legs almost gives away. “I cannot lose you again.” He admits and he pulls Niall who’s crying harder now, into a hug and runs his fingers through his hair as he kisses his forehead. Niall doesn’t hug him back but he doesn’t pull away as well so Zayn takes it.

“No explanation, message, calls, nothing for _six. fucking. months;_ do you want me to help you start counting?!” Niall’s screams are muffled from Zayn’s neck.

“Why’d you have to go?” Niall heaves, tries a softer approach this time but Zayn still could not answer that; Zayn, almost gave away from Niall’s fit, almost drove him home and let him go but Niall’s suddenly looking up at him incredulously with bright blue eyes bigger than that it normally is both from crying and from intoxication.

When Niall closes his eyes, Zayn allows himself to stare, reminds himself that resisting it would only end up longing for it more than ever and when he opens them, he finds Niall staring and Zayn’s cheeks flush for the first time that night.

 

“Zayn.” Niall says or whines, most likely.

Niall intertwines their hands and then he’s closing his eyes and tiptoeing painfully slow before he’s kissing him. Niall’s kissing Zayn, it’s all sweet and fulfilling and he could always blame the alcohol if anything goes wrong right? They were still, though Niall’s insides was on fire, because dare he deny it, Zayn was in fact blood that ran through his veins, Zayn kept him alive,

Except, Zayn wasn’t kissing him back & Niall scrunches his forehead both in confusion and anxiousness. “Niall, you’re drunk.” Zayn says. “No, shit.” Niall tells him sarcastically but rolls his eye rather fondly. “Are you sure?” Zayn asks because of course he asks, it’s not that he doesn’t want this, just wanted to make sure Niall knows what he is doing.

He gets a hum as a reply before he’s being pulled into another kiss and this time Zayn kisses him back with as much passion. Zayn pulls him close by the waist, afraid that if let’s go, he’ll leave him.

He was rather anxious and scared because Niall has always been open and accepting about his sexuality but he wasn’t. He tells himself he’s not gay, that he’s Muslim and Allah will forsake him, so he denies it, tells himself it’s not real. He tells himself that Niall is drunk and he will forget about this later that day and they will go back to normal.

So Zayn pulls back both to breathe and to stop this but Niall’s eyes are still closed, his cheeks the prettiest shade of red, hair is a bit messy now, his lips and god he is even more beautiful just like that so he kisses Niall first this time. It was so calm and sweet, he thinks, feels like he would do this forever if only he could.

He’s about to pull back now, for good but Niall, who is always the epitome of spontaneity, is sucking Zayn’s lower lip one moment and is licking it the next moment before Niall’s exploring his mouth and god, does his tongue feel good. He thinks he has to stop whatever this is because he’s not ready for the impact but he also thinks he’s finally getting what seemed so much of a fantasy since he’s met Niall. He’s wanted this—him—for so long.

Niall pushes him towards the couch and if they fell hard he does not comprehend because the next thing he knows, Niall’s kneeling on either side of him. “Your knee,” Zayn worries and Niall groans, kisses Zayn like he’s got something to prove. _“fuck you for leaving me, fuck you, fuck you, fuck—”_

Zayn tries to stop him because of course he does, “Niall, you’re drunk,” he says in between Niall’s sweet hypnotic kisses. “I can’t, we can’t, Niall, I’ll drive you,” he pants and tries to still himself but Niall’s trailing his kisses to his neck and he’s slowly rutting his hip against Zayn that he trembles. “I’m home, you said.”

“Ni,” he tries once more and their eyes meet, fire and ice, and he think it’s completely opposite, that it will never work but his bodily response begs to differ. He lets out a low moan, eyes obscuring with such intoxication from Niall’s touch. He lets himself go, finally, let’s all hell lose. He tilts his head to the side to give Niall more access and holds him by the waist.

Niall feels himself stiffen over Zayn and Zayn on the other hand, has never done this, at least not with another boy so he’s unsure and scared but Niall’s lip is on his again and he feels content, still feels the sweetness, although the pace is getting quicker by the moment.

His hands travel under the striped shirt Niall has on and he takes off the fucking jacket and then the shirt eagerly, finds snow white torso that’s lean, broad but mostly fragile. Zayn kisses Niall everywhere then, his lips, his chin, his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, his torso, figures it’s probably relatively the same as when he’s done it with girl except, this was Niall, it’s different, it’s special, even when he will not remember this in the morning. Even when Niall was angry at Zayn and he knows, he knows intoxication may not be enough to forget his feeling that’s why Niall’s doing this.

Zayn slips his hands under either sides of Niall’s thighs and he carries him to the bedroom supposedly but Niall’s back hits a wall and right now nobody cares because they were both sky high from friction, intoxication or whatever this is.

Niall in turn takes Zayn’s top off before they’re finally heading to the bed. Niall goes down first and starts to palm Zayn against his clothed bulge which Zayn keenly acknowledges with his thrusts. They both fumble with the buttons of their jeans and Niall frustratingly gropes himself but Zayn swats his hand away, removes Niall’s boxers finally and thugs at his shaft firmly.

Niall grips Zayn’s bare back, makes sure he leaves crescents on his back & Zayn thinks he goes deaf after that, can only hear Niall’s moans, which weren’t at all, low and strained. Incoherent words & curses leaves him mouth but before his stomach recoil and he could finish he calls Zayn out, voice hoarse either from being too vocal or from the concert earlier.

Zayn wakes out of trance for a minute, “Niall you’re drunk and I—I,” Zayn tries to say but Niall’s crawling down on him. Gives no warning of any sort before he’s mouthing Zayn through his boxers and _“fuck,”_ he shouts because that mouth does wonders. Niall was never complicated, Zayn thinks so he’s not exactly surprised when Niall takes yanks his boxers down and takes him in.

Niall, apparently, gives the best blowjobs too but being the fucking tease that he is, he stops, goes back up to Zayn and kisses him. There it was again, the sweetness and softness it bought despite the desperation & anger right now. Though he wants to continue the lovely make up session, Niall pants a, “Need you—Ah, please,”

Zayn says something along, _but you’re drunk and I don’t want to take advantage or hurt you_ , because he’s Zayn and it’s not just someone. Niall doesn’t take it, then again, what has he taken from Zayn since they’ve reunited.

Niall manoeuvres them so he’s on top and Zayn watches Niall touch himself, watch Niall’s fingers disappear and reappear, watches how his eyes flutter the same time his mouth forms an ‘O’ in ecstasy, watches this boy unravel in front of him under the light of the moon, watches and moans filthily because he can. It’s the least embarrassing thing he could think of because it is too hot and Niall is too beautiful.

Zayn pumps himself as he watches and he stays still when Niall aligns himself on Zayn’s shaft, allows Niall the benefit to revoke any time he wishes; He doesn’t because it’s Niall and he never backs down on something he’d started, or did Zayn start this one, he wasn’t sure.

Niall pushes down slowly until Zayn’s head is in and he stays frozen, doesn’t want to hurt Niall and tries to ignore the heat he’s feeling, tries to ignore the urge to thrust upward. Zayn tips his head up, meeting Niall’s eyes and just that gives him the sense of assurance. Zayn kisses him, like he’s done it for years now when he’s only actually kissed Niall that night, or morning.

Niall calms through Zayn’s kisses and forgets the hurt; he goes all the way down when he’s ready and it still stings but it turns into pleasure softly. Zayn moans lowly contrary to Niall, and for once he does not care if they’re opposite, does not care if it’s not going to work, because Niall lets Zayn do that to him.

Zayn guides Niall on him but decides to turn them over so he was on top again. He thrusts and kisses Niall in sync and that’s when it hits him, that’s when it really hits him. He tries to resist it, drown himself over Niall screaming _zaynzaynzaynzayn_ but it doesn’t quiet work and before he could even stop himself, he’s saying it out loud,

“Niall, I love you.”

And the rhythm stops, Niall’s eyes widens just a bit at him but Niall breaks the spell and erupts in laughter before they’re at it again. Zayn changes their pace this time, doesn’t exactly understand why he wants so, except he’s slamming into Niall slowly and cautiously. It continues that way.

 _“Fuck, Z, I’m gonna,”_ Niall pants as he squeeze his eyes shut, coming undone on both his and Zayn’s chest. Niall yawns then, exhaustion finally seeping in fully and Zayn was quick to comment, “Hey, don’t sleep on me.” Niall laughs again and Zayn doesn’t want to admit that it’s what did it for him.

Niall’s eyes were lidded, lips curved up contently as Zayn cleans them both up. Zayn puts a blanket over them, cuddles Niall wherein he rests his chin on top of his head and absentmindedly runs his hand through Niall’s hair. Zayn was as exhausted as equally but he stays up a bit longer than Niall, likes how he hears his breathing, how he feels his heartbeat.

 

And Zayn thinks, he knows now actually, that it isn’t fire & ice, it has never been fire & ice in fact, it is fire & fire, blue and golden flame alike, only capable of such heat together.

*

Niall wakes that afternoon from the sun seeping through the window directly at him. He groans because his head throbs instantly and blinks rapidly before he could adjust to the room. He moves about the all too familiar bed, stark-naked under the duvet, smiling sleepily as he sees a glass of water and medicine for him.

His trance leaves when he hears a huff, redirects his focus and sees Zayn, fully clothed, sitting at the end of the bed, back facing him. Niall props himself up, doesn’t quite register anything that has happened last night. “Morning,” he says sleepily and Zayn turns his head sharp, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

Niall scrunches his face in confusion, still oblivious to what has happened between them, except when he makes their eyes meet, he sees flashbacks of what has happened: alcohol, Zayn, more Alcohol, Zayn’s lips, Zayn carrying him to the bedroom, Zayn.

He smiles at that but Zayn gives Niall the kind of readable expression and Niall smiles fade instantly because he knows that face, knows whatever has happened has been a mistake and knows that it was his queue to leave. “shit.” He mutters lowly breaking the silence, tries to get and put on his boxers and trousers quickly. He remembers his keys so he fishes it at Zayn’s trousers’ pocket.

Zayn doesn’t seem to care, just stares at the television across him, still wide-eyed and frantic breathing and Niall feels angry, feels cheated even when he has no right to, he suppose. “Zayn, I—” he cut off with a, “we’ve all had our drunken mistakes here and there eh?” and Zayn laughing airily but Niall thinks he’s ready to kill.

“You fucker, I fucking let you _fuck_ me!” Niall says loudly, thick accent obviously laced with anger, before he’s out of the bedroom. Zayn feels hot, like he’s long been forsaken by his god and now he’s going to hell for fucking Niall up. What he hates most of all is how Niall’s used the term ‘fuck’ when he talked about what happened between them because he likes to believe it was more than that. The only problem is he’d probably never ever admit to that.

He hears shuffling outside the bedroom, Niall’s probably looking for his shirt, tying his shoelace, drinking water, whatever and Zayn could take the time to fix this but he’s so confused and overwhelmed with his feelings that he never got to do it, doesn’t think he was brave enough to do it anyways and the next thing he hears is the really loud sound the door made as it was closed.

*

It was the second time Niall runs from Zayn and every time he does, he half wishes Zayn liked him back or at least loved him enough as a friend or family that he’d run after Niall but he never did and this day was not different. He sneaks in their hotel and packs two or maybe three sets of clothes, he doesn’t really care right now, out of desperation.

He booked his plane to Manchester, their next gig is there in three days and again he does not fucking care. He wants out of it; out of London for as long as possible even when it’s impossible since his house is basically there, then again, he could always mope in Ireland. He calls Harry to say he’s off, he’s got some things going on but they don’t have to worry, before boarding the plane.

Niall meets some friends and goes clubbing the first night, drinks like it’s his last day to live and sure enough he was all over the news the next day. He goes clubbing on the second day too and on the third, drinks too much for his own good and wakes up feeling like he’s about to die with a ranging hangover. He tells himself he doesn’t want to be that drunk again but he finds himself in another club every night.

He makes the news every single night because of course he does; it’s always the same really, _Niall clubbing with friends, Niall at a football match, Niall at a golf match, Niall clubbing some more, Niall hanging out with fellow artist, Niall has a girlfriend, Niall clubbing, Niall has a new girlfriend, Niall clubbing_  and the cycle continues. He usually wears a simple top, some trousers and a hat that _apparently_ everyone dislikes. Smart ass likes to wear similar clothes just to piss off the pap until they’d stop posting about him.

He’s only been in Manchester for three days but he’s sick of it. He remembers perfectly how he roomed with Zayn during WWAT in the very hotel he’s in, how Zayn had run up to him during _Strong_ and had whispered Harry’s part to him. He remember how he couldn’t stop smiling even when he knew they’d done that to each other all the time and right now he hates the thought of it.

Niall isn’t as lively during the concert, it didn’t faze him how much negative comments he’s been receiving and didn’t even quite enjoy playing football with ManU. The boy was just out of it. Harry, Louis and Liam would ask him what’s wrong but he’s just not ready to say a thing. He still went to drink alone, refusing the three’s company, so he’d succumb himself into the underground bar of their hotel.

He flies to Glasgow after the night of the second show, this time without phoning Harry anymore; Glasgow wasn’t any better, they’ve had more memories here than ever, during all four tours. Niall remembers the time in TMHT when the two of them have fooled around and there was this photo where he was seemingly about to punch Zayn that went viral.

He also remember how Zayn FaceTimed him the day before their performance in BBC1 Radio Weekend in 2014 and Niall begged him not go anymore for his sake but Zayn was as stubborn as he is, so he went anyway. He remembers how sick Zayn’s been backstage, how he’s vomited in the toilet and Niall stayed for the most of it.

After both shows, he’s gone to two different pubs and hangs out with strangers there. He had even taken home a brunette lady during the first night, desperate for a quick fuck, which of course he got because he was Niall Horan, 1/5 of the biggest boy band in the world and right now he’s not sure whether that is a blessing or a curse.

On the second night at the pub though, he stumbles back at the hotel alone, he opens a _Johnny Walker_ he’s ordered from room service, drinking it directly from the bottle. He finds himself on his phone after days and he sees a particular tweet asking why it had to be Zayn that has left, why couldn’t it have been Niall.

He drinks more after that and ends up throwing the unfinished bottle against the wall, making a loud breaking sound and he watches it turn into many little pieces. He thrashes his bed and just throws every single breakable thing against the wall and he sobs loudly. He only wakes from the trance when he hears someone knocking and god was he so thankful that he’s locked the door.

He sat on the floor just between the bed and the nightstand, sobbing still. _Wish it had been me instead, too, I wish_ , he says to himself before unconsciousness slowly, slowly sunk in.

When he wakes up, his head spins but people gets used to the feeling, he’s used to it now. He adjusts his eyes to the room realizing it’s not his and his boys were there, he sees a doctor as well. His eyes widens but he tries to stay calm by laughing throatily, “I’m not mental.” And Liam was quick to assure him, “We know Ni, we just want you to, we think you need to see someone,”

“I’M NOT MENTAL.” Niall says loudly this time and before anybody could realize it, he sprints out of the room, finds his room, gets his things and runs to the elevator. He hears and sees the other boys following him too but the last thing he wants to do is for him to be caught and he has to be forced to talk to a psychiatrist. He runs outside and gets into the cab, asks the driver to take him to the airport and tries to calm himself down.

He gets to leave for Birmingham without any of the boys catching him, at least not for another two days he hopes. He stays at a motel this time, he might be rich but he hasn’t always been rich so he knows. He’s smarter than anybody gave him the credit for. He’s bought packs of cheap beer that’s probably enough for a small party.

Except, he keeps it to himself; he opens the old television that comes with the room and slump on the floor, drinking a can at a time. He tries to shake of the memory of him and Zayn in TMHT when Zayn was feeling needy, Niall supposes and he just walks to Niall casually at the middle of the concert and he had hugged Niall and had again whispered something in his ear.

He remembers Zayn’s faint voice saying, _you’ll probably die of alcohol poisoning_ , and just like that, he misses the first night of their concert in Barclay. He does the same for the second night, he drinks until he can’t feel his tongue, drinks until he feels he’s ‘bout to die because _fuck did he love Zayn so much._

Niall flies to Dublin after three more days, he’s head a mess, bags under his eyes but he smiles lightly. He is home. He goes straight to Mullingar and is met by her Ma at the front door. When he goes in though, Harry, Louis and Liam are sat at their living room and he thinks he’s about to faint, he prepares himself for all the shouting and complaints he’s about to get.

He gets none though; all three had walked to him and hugged him tightly. “We love you and we’re sorry for pressuring you with the doctor,” Harry says because it’s just Harry to have to explain things. “We understand what you’re going through.” Liam reassures him. _You don’t._ But he doesn’t say this; he smiles at them instead, big and quite frankly, very realistic.

Of course that had meant he needed to perform that night, there was no way out this time and he reminds himself, he’s forgotten his focus for the past five years which was the fans because he had let some things blur it by being weak. He had forgotten how he told himself that he was going to be doing this for a long time not because he was enjoying it but because he loved their fans. He can’t leave them, not then, not now.

Things went back to usual, nobody made a big deal on why he’s left but he can’t help but feel a bit, out of place with their conversations and the inside jokes and he thinks, maybe Zayn has felt this after missing a gig or two and he thinks, he wasn’t even able to comfort him, wasn’t able to make him feel less alone.

The moment they walk out on the stage, he feels deaf, he feels his blood running and the energy is bursting, he had missed this, he has to admit. He sings each song with as much feeling or at least he tries but he doesn’t quite meet it. During one song in particular which was Strong, he had to sing Zayn’s part and he does so, changing the lyrics to, _I need to keep me from falling apart, I’ll always hold on cause you make me_ , which makes him cry when he sang it with so much emotion that he has built up inside over the couple of days.

Just as they reach backstage, Niall calls all three out for a selfie, knows not to disappoint the fans, they’d love their selfies. He opens his phone for the first time since days mainly because he cannot be bothered with any social media apps at the moment.

He sees countless missed calls and voicemails from Zayn finally, tries to ignore the fact the other are looking at his phone too so he quickly slides in to the camera to take a photo. He was busying himself as he picked a photo filter before uploading it when Louis called up to him.

“You’re staying at our hotel, right?” Louis sounds hopeful and he knows he’ll only sulk around if he stays with his Ma so he nods simply. Louis grins mischievously before giving him his key card and walking him to the van; Harry and Liam following shortly.

He sat quietly in between the boys and sure he hasn’t come down from his high as well but he was just itching to look through his phone. Everyone hurried out the van once they halted, afraid that fans might spot them; Niall stayed put though, pulls his phone from the back pocket of his pants before going through. Their driver looks expectantly at him and he just put a hand up to tell him to wait.

Niall refuses to admit how he’s trembling as he goes through 31 missed calls then he puts his phone to his ear for the first voicemail and hears Zayn. His voice smooth and assuring and cunning, he thinks. _“’Niall, I’m sorry fuck—I’m such a coward I couldn’t even stop you and, shit, I’m terrible at this, but you haven’t answered any of my calls and I totally understand, hell I deserve it, I don’t expect you to um, forgive me or talk to me again but,’”_ it stops.

He presses for the second one, _“’Don't look around 'cause love is blind and darling right now, I can't see you. I'm feeling proud so without a doubt, I can feel you. 'Cause we are who we are when no one's watching and you're right from the start, you know I got you.’”_ He closes his eyes; Zayn’s voice was as if toxic fucking him up from the inside out. Doesn’t know how Zayn finishes the first voicemail or if he ever finished, doesn’t understand why the song, doesn’t understand how he’s to react, doesn’t understand anything anymore.

_“’We messed around until we found the one thing we said we could never ever, live without, I'm not allowed to talk about it but I gotta tell you...'cause we are who we are when no one's watching and you're right from the start, you know I got you—basically, I’m more upset, I know that I’ve let you boys down and it’s just sort of weird because that’s the main thing I don’t want to happen, it’s not that I turned my back on you or anything it’s just I can’t do that anymore, it’s not real to me. I never felt more in control.’”_

Niall hears in until the very end and he doesn’t realize he’s spaced out until their driver starts coughing and is now obviously annoyed at him. He hastily gets out and walks to the hotel then the front desk. “Hi, where’s your bar? Uh, I’m checked in here,” he fishes the key card in his pocket to show. “And I’m,”

“You’re Niall Horan!” the girl almost shouts and he hates it when people do that, especially now he doesn’t understand lots of things. He bites his fingernails as he thinks about the message, tells himself he should be angry of all and he is, a bit because right now he’ concerned, overthinks how it might have been a suicide message or summat. Really, he hates Zayn but he hates himself more right.

“Uh, sir, I said the bar’s at the basement.” She repeats and Niall nods slowly before pacing to the elevator. He’s met by loud music and none other than Louis Tomlinson of fucking course. “Hey Niaaallllll” Louis slurs. “Good to finally hang with you again.”

Niall huffs at that and Louis seems to have sobered up a bit from the realization. “What’s wrong?” and Niall just shakes his head. He takes a beeline to the actual bar to buy a bottle of _Carlos Uno_ and get it opened before walking back to the lift. He vaguely notices Louis coming with him until the doors closed.

“Louis,” Niall whines.

“Niall,” Louis mocks him.

“C’mon, is it a guy? Did you get laid? Do you need to get laid?” he asks nonchalantly and Louis is Louis so he figures, he’s bound to know even when Niall doesn’t tell him. “Yeah, uh, I like Zayn.” He drags every word before drinking straight from the bottle he’s just bought. “Of course you do.”

Niall doesn’t answer quickly, he lets a moment pass before saying, “No, I like Zayn a lot,” and as if on cue Louis’ eyes almost bulge out of its sockets but he quickly composes himself. Niall feels like himself, completely normal actually, even when he’s just told someone he likes his band mate of five years. “I let him fuck me and he regretted it in the morning,”

“Fucking asshole!” Louis nearly screams at his face and he’s casually drinking whiskey and shaking his head, feeling miserable just when the door opens at the ground floor he locks eyes with Zayn; just his fucking luck.

He breaks the contact just as it had started to dart his head at Louis. For a moment, the three of them are just staring at each other until Louis starts walking out slowly without looking away from Niall. Niall doesn’t even try to be subtle as he vigorously shook his head. Zayn and Louis meet by the eyes for the first time in over six months and a stupid twitter war. Only Niall misses the way Louis’ mouths a _‘fix this’_ and Zayn nods.

Zayn goes in hesitantly just as the doors close behind him. “I—I was booked here, was supposed to uh, I watched you today, you were amazing,” he rambles and Niall just shrugs at that, never meeting his eye and downing as much liquid in one go.

Niall feels angry, sad and everything at once then; he’s just registered that Zayn flew to Ireland, he’s watched him singing his part, watched him break during certain songs and he’s embarrassed and confused as well. He hates Zayn so much right now for making him try to connect the dots that he goes for the button to get out now—while he can—even when it isn’t his floor yet.

Zayn beats him to it though and presses the emergency button making the lift stop automatically and the lights go off. Niall holds the wall for support at the sudden impact; make sure he keeps as much distance from Zayn as he hugs himself, feeling the claustrophobia sinking in. He tries to keep his breathing nice and calm because it might take them a while to get out because he swears he will not talk.

Niall feels exposed as Zayn stare him down. Just a few minutes after the lift was stopped, he slumped down on the floor and continues to take the bitterness of his whiskey choice as he runs his hand on his messy hair.

 

“Niall,”

And he hates how he looks up out of instinct, feels trapped under Zayn’s gaze and before he could do or say anything, Zayn’s talking, “You’re it for me.” And Niall goes silent for a long moment until he becomes frustrated and very furious that he stands.

“You think you can keep fucking with my feelings like that huh Zayn? You think you can disappear for a long time and then lead me on to hurt me? You think you can woo me with one of your demos? You think you can go scare me with your confusing suicidal voicemails? You think.” Niall shouts at him.

“WHAT?” Zayn, on the other hand, is annoyingly confused about it too. “Well, weren’t you talking about being in control and saying you can’t do it anymore and?” and Zayn just smiles at that, all crinkly and beautiful it hurts. Niall’s suddenly nervous as it was his turn to ask “What?”

“It’s just that, you. You’re concerned and—” Niall cuts him off. “No! I’m not!” and Zayn gives him that look which makes him shut up. “As I was saying, you’re concerned and I wasn’t talking about suicide silly. I just couldn’t lie to myself anymore so I stopped and I’ve never felt more in control.”

“That song was for you then. It will always be for you.”

Niall just rolls his eyes at that. Great, more dots he could not connect. They stay like that for a moment with Niall sulking at the concert drinking his posh drink without posh and Zayn staring, humming his song for Niall.

“For the record,” He takes a step forward which only makes Niall press his back harder on the wall. “I didn’t fuck you,” and another, “I had sex with you,” and another, “and I have invested so much feeling,” and another, “during every second of it,” and another, “so god knows, how much I loved you Niall. How much I love you.”

Niall then fans himself with his shirt feeling out of breath from the enclosed area, Zayn standing a foot away from him grabbing the bottle of whiskey from him to put it down and he can’t believe; refuses to believe Zayn’s just said all of that. He thinks of something witty to say, anything to snap him, anything for him to take back his words and admit it was all a sick joke and he has conjured so much words for Zayn since except now the only thing that comes out of his mouth is:

“Prove it.”

Zayn cups Niall’s jaw with his right hand and goes forward until his face is mere centimetres from Niall, gives him time to pull away if he wants. Niall feels Zayn breathe fanning his lips and his eyes instinctively droop. He inches forward to finally close the gap and Zayn pins his hip at the wall. He trembles with every touch and feels like he may just faint.

Zayn sucks on his bottom lip hard and Niall, always kisses like he’s got something to prove, kisses him back just as hard. Their kisses getting rougher and rougher by the minute, Zayn kisses down to Niall’s jaw and then to his neck, marks him, one, two, three, four times because he can, because he wants to and because he _loves_ him.

Niall’s pants then was getting quicker and Zayn reaches out for the emergency button to make it move again. He hugs Niall and whispers at him as he runs his hand on Niall’s hair to calm him down. The lift roars to life instantly and they get out at the pent.

Niall rests both his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath and Zayn’s there, soothing his back. Once he has recovered, he glares at Zayn and rolls his eyes rather fondly before saying, “Should have known you were only trying to kill me,” They both laugh heartily at the crude comment before Niall’s taking his hand and they both walk to his room.

The sex was slow and affectionate and warm. They did it twice or thrice, Niall’s not sure but he sees the digital clock that said 2:23 AM and he says “I’m not drunk,” Zayn hums.

“Took you a few weeks,” “Yeah I went to all your concerts since but you didn’t show up,” Zayn replies.

“You caught up with me everywhere I go.” Niall tells him as he runs his hand through Zayn’s hair. Zayn beams at the thought, “tell me,” and Niall who’s at the verse of falling into a deep sleep says, _hmm, I love you Zayn, is why._

*

Niall wakes up first, a bit of line illuminating the room from outside and he feels sore and warm at the same time. “Please tell me you don’t regret it.” Niall mutters sleepily and Zayn grumbles, “Go back to sleep, Ni,” resting a protective arm around Niall and nuzzling his head unto Niall’s neck even more that makes Niall a bit ticklish from his hair.

They’re both on their fronts against the mattress and Niall stops himself from laughing obnoxiously loud early in the morning so he just smiles goofily on the pillow and wraps his arm around Zayn’s neck in return. “You’re banned from alcohol for the rest of your life you hear me,” Zayn says out of nowhere before kissing his cheek and going back to sleep. Muttering something along, _so drunk, couldn’t even remember me saying I loved him, Christ._

So maybe he’ll actually die of alcohol poisoning and maybe Zayn actually said he loved him and he couldn’t remember and maybe Zayn will go back to his senses, one day, maybe even tomorrow or the next day to tell Niall he can’t do it but right now he loves Zayn and will probably love him for the rest of his life so he inches closer if that was even possible;

And Niall thinks it’s all so domestic he could get used to this, easy.


End file.
